Guilt
by this is only a test
Summary: What was going through Sandy's head when she sent back Soda's letter...


Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.

AN: I think this was originally dedicated to writersblock242… If it wasn't, it is now! Enjoy. :)

An 2: I updated Swim, Don't Sink and Lead Us Not Into Tempation last night. Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter on those, and I hope you enjoy the second!

Soda's letter came today, but you were too afraid to open it. As you held it in your fingers, knowing the amount of energy and effort Sodapop would've put into it, you just couldn't do it.

And for this, you feel like a bitch. You_ knew_ he'd said he'd write you when you left. Glory, you looked forward to that first letter coming, but the second it got here, everything changed.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly what the change was or why it occurred. You're telling yourself it was fear, and quite possibly it was. Sodapop has always scared you to some degree. Not that he was frightening in a conventional way by any means. Hell, he treated you better than anyone you've ever met before, but there was something about that level of devotion that freaked you out. When he fell for you, he fell hard. He was practically an eager puppy at your leash, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like that at first— and who wouldn't enjoy being treated like a princess? But there was still something about it that didn't quite feel right.

You realized this the night you slept with Harold Miller. God, what an awful mistake. It's painful to think about in retrospect; going to that party, getting soused beyond belief, cheating on your boyfriend … But even though those things bugged you, the thing that bothered you the most was Sodapop's reaction. You expected anger; you expected rage; hell, you expected the guy to break up with you.

_Anything_ but forgive you and take you back, but that's exactly what he did. He looked hurt, like he'd be torn completely in half, but he said it was okay and that he knew you didn't mean to do it.

It still baffles you as to how he could think this. You knew he couldn't hold grudges all that well, but man, you cheated on him. You took advantage of the fact he was so devoted, and nothing kills you more now. Especially since that mistake is irreversible.

Like it or not, you'll be dealing with the effects of it for the rest of your life. Guilt isn't coming in just an awful memory; in a few months, it'll come in a six to eight pound package, too.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking like that, though. You know it's not your baby's fault you fucked up, but still, every second of raising that kid will remind you of that horrible mistake with Harold.

What's even more guilt-ridden is that even though Sodapop knows he's not the Daddy, he was still willing to raise your kid. He said you could get married and be a family. That was what he wanted, but the word marriage scared the crap out of you. You were only sixteen, but it only took one look at his eyes to know he was dead serious about it.

And looking into those same brown eyes the night he said he'd father your child, you knew he wasn't shitting you then, either. He meant it; he meant what he said with every ounce of his being, and you're still trying to fathom how he could even stand to be that amazing to you.

You know he was a hopeless romantic, and that was why you initially fell for him, but you also knew things were rough for him on the home front after his parents' deaths. Maybe that's why he latched on to you so strongly, and now you feel like absolute shit. Things weren't so great for him, but he still gave completely of himself for you, and what'd he get in return?

A lousy, cheating girlfriend. And just now, his letter sent back unopened.

It's probably going to be another god-awful mistake you'll regret, just like Harold Miller, but fear got the best of you. It'd be too much to sit there and read the heartfelt words of a man that still probably loves you. As far as you're concerned, you don't deserve to be loved.

So, you chickened out and shied away, but maybe it wasn't fear, after all.

Maybe you're just a bitch.


End file.
